


Love Language

by treescape



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Established Relationship, Gift Giving, M/M, Past Jack O'Neill/Sarah O'Neill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 15:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14167890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treescape/pseuds/treescape
Summary: When he’s out and about running errands, Jack tries to keep his eye out for things Daniel might like.





	Love Language

Jack had always liked flowers because flowers were easy. Not easy like a cop out, or a way of not having to actually say “I’m sorry” or “I miss you” or “I love you.” Sara would never have let him get away with that. But flowers had always made _sense_ , because somehow there seemed to be one for everything. Friendship. Love. Longing. Eternity. Jack had actually had fun trying to put together different combinations. He had enjoyed watching Sara figure them out.

Daniel, of course, a whole other matter. Carnations made him sneeze. Chrysanthemums gave him hives. Roses…Jesus, with Daniel’s luck, roses would probably kill him.

Daniel always did like to be difficult.

\---

When he’s out and about running errands, Jack tries to keep his eye out for things Daniel might like.

Often, when Daniel’s home, it’s just his favourite pastries or take-out from a place he’s recently mentioned off-hand. When he can, Jack likes to stop to get Daniel’s favourite coffee from the place just up the street.

Occasionally, he finds little souvenirs he thinks Daniel might get a kick out of. They’re stupid things, really—little knick knacks that look like something you’d find on a dig, or little toys of “mythological” figures they’ve met. Once he finds a miniature kit filled with gritty sand and fake dinosaur bones, with the tiniest brush and chisel Jack’s ever seen. Jack buys it because he thinks it’s the kind of thing child-Daniel would have liked, and the thought of him actually trying to use the diminutive tools makes Jack smile. 

Most often, though, he’ll take a few minutes to comb through spinning racks of postcards. He’ll find a brilliant shot of the night sky, or a place that reminds him of a mission off-world, or something that just makes him think of Daniel. Jack will put them on the fridge for Daniel to find, or mail them to him at work, or sometimes even mail them to him at home. He likes to watch Daniel pretend to roll his eyes when he sees the mail sitting on the kitchen counter, his lips turning up with pleasure as he flips the postcard over to read the back. Sometimes Jack just signs his name, letting the image speak for itself. Sometimes he dashes off a random thought or joke. Once, when Daniel is half a galaxy away and Jack misses him just a little too much, with an ache that reaches a little too deep, he buys one that shows only luminous stars in a pitch black sky. He thinks about Daniel out there, so far away, even with only a stargate between them. At home, when he’s had a few beers, he logs online and then tries to write “I love you” in very bad approximations of hieroglyphs. He never finds out if he’s gotten anywhere near accuracy, but Daniel’s eyes go soft when he finally comes home and finds it tucked away with his other mail.

Jack never actually expects Daniel to keep them. They’re always the kind of thing that’s just meant to make Daniel laugh or smile for a moment, and Jack wouldn’t be offended if they wound up forgotten somewhere, or lost, or accidentally thrown out. Jack knows he and Daniel are forever, knows _Daniel_ knows the same.

It still doesn’t surprise him when, years after they get together, he finds a battered box tucked away in the back of the closet. Inside, Jack recognizes the neat mix of items and the careful stack of postcards. When he flips the top one over, his own writing is faded but still readable. The once-glossy edges are worn from handling, as if it’s been touched and read many times, and Jack can’t help but smile and shake his head fondly as he tucks the box away.

**Author's Note:**

> For the associations Jack is thinking of at the beginning: red carnations represent love, pride, and admiration. Chrysanthemums represent fidelity, optimism, joy, and long life. And roses of course for love!


End file.
